She remembers her sister so clearly. The way they played as pups, racing around meadows as their mother watched. Trying to stalk their father as he patrolled their barely-secured territory. He always caught them of course, usually sending them back to the pride with a stern glare. There was one time, however, when he didn't. When he looked back at the two of them and something seemed to shift behind his eyes. He'd picked Winterpup up by her scruff, and Nightpup had to scramble to keep up. Their father brought them to one of the many cliffs around their home. He waited until both sisters were settled until he began to tell them about this place. The creatures he found, the landmarks he remembered. He told them it wasn't safe out here for them yet but one day, one day it would be.
Nightstalk lay on that very cliff, alone. Their father had been right, but even he couldn't predict all the dangers that surrounded them. It had been a long, harsh winter, and she still had empty spaces between her bones to show for it. And she was lucky. Not everyone in the pack had made it.
